<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>5 o'clock somewhere by wank</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884711">5 o'clock somewhere</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wank/pseuds/wank'>wank</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Idiots in Love, Insomnia, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Oblivious, Pining, Underage Drinking, Watford (Simon Snow), Watford Seventh Year, big dumb idiots, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:21:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,589</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wank/pseuds/wank</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Baz comes back for seventh year, things are how they always were, with one minor exception; Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is a vampire afraid of the dark, and he copes the only way he knows how: drinking.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch &amp; Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>5 o'clock somewhere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Simon</b>
</p>
<p>When Baz came back six weeks into term, something was wrong. He was too thin, too pale, limping, and for once in his life his eyes had bags under them. He was trying to act normal, but I know that it's a facade. No one else may be able to tell but I know him like the back of my hand. Even if he's trying to look put together, I see the cracks.</p>
<p>
  <b>Baz</b>
</p>
<p>Five weeks. The numpties kept me for five bloody weeks in a dark coffin underground. When Fiona finally rescued me she brought me back to the Manor, and my family cast a barrage of healing spells and I am grateful for that, but the nightmares haunting me can't be spelled away. After three sleepless nights I turned to the bottle. Of course I'd been drunk before, Dev loved to swipe bottles of rum from his dad, and we celebrated his 18th birthday at a pub.</p>
<p>Daphne would have never let me leave the house again, let alone go back to school if she had known the true nature of my state. So I lied. I'm fine. I can sleep just like before. Except my nightmares were manageable before, and I wasn't a vampire afraid of the dark. My night vision is helpful. It's never truly dark unless I close my eyes. So I go back to school, and act unbothered.</p>
<p>The first night, laying in the moonlit room a meter away from the love of my life, is tougher than I thought. I hoped a few days above ground to adjust, and constant companionship would be enough to sleep, but it's not working. I can hear Simon breathing, too unevenly, he's still awake even though it's creeping on midnight. I see him watching me, eyes wide open like he can't believe I'm real. With a sigh I go to the bathroom. There's a spell I learned from Fiona one night last summer, when she thought she was alone. I can't say I immediately practiced it but I love magic and I want to know as many spells as I can and to master them. So I turned on Jimmy Buffet on my laptop the next day. I don't love American music, particularly country but it's five o'clock somewhere, is particularly catchy and it's a reliable spell. It's about time America contributed to the world.  So I go to the bathroom, lock the door and spell myself a margarita for tonight. One of those oversized fishbowls of a drink shows up and I use the silly straw to gulp it down in long sips. I don't love a margarita, but it's strong and a little sugary but more importantly it does the job. I wish I knew a spell for straight liquor but beggars can't be choosers. I suppose at Thanksgiving break I can go into town and buy enough to get me through the year. The first drink goes down and I cast another and sit down on the closed toilet. This one comes blue and it tastes a tad better and goes down easier. I wonder if that's enough alcohol content to get me to sleep. Just to be safe I chug it and summon a third. I can feel the alcohol buzzing through my veins warming me up. I wonder if Simon's asleep yet. I throw my empty ridiculous American fishbowl into the moat and leave the bathroom. My limbs aren't behaving accordingly, my leg feels weird ever since the numpties kidnapped me and my arms feel like they belong to someone else. I crawl into bed and shimmy under the blankets and roll over to look at my supposed nemesis. I don't think he's asleep, I think he's just laying there but I can't make out his breathing over the thoughts tumbling in my head. It's good to be back. It's good to be home. It's good to be alive.</p>
<p>
  <b>Simon</b>
</p>
<p>I wake up the next morning before Baz, like always to be early to breakfast. I can admit I'm dense, I'm thick, my grades are below average, but I know Baz, I know him like I know myself. The Mage says we should know each other as well as brothers given the Crucible cast us together, and I don't know how it is to have a brother but I know Baz better than I know myself.</p>
<p>He's still asleep and he's facing my bed, drooling a bit. He's never done that before but it's a welcome sight to have him back. I don't know how I feel about him and I don't know what to say and yesterday it was easy enough to avoid him. I get dressed as quickly as I can and head down to breakfast.</p>
<p>Penny is already at our table, nose in a book, when I sit down with my plate. She looks up at me, question in her eyes.</p>
<p>"I didn't ask." I say before shoving a scone in my mouth.</p>
<p>"After weeks of speculation? Nothing?" She implores. I shrug and look at breakfast. Just because I spent all of term wondering where Baz was and what he was doing and bugging Penny about it and harassing the minions doesn't mean anything. Just because I spent every waking moment thinking of him doesn't mean anything . I know I don't actually hate him. I know I can't stop thinking about him.</p>
<p>
  <b>Baz</b>
</p>
<p>My first week back is surprisingly uneventful. Catching up on coursework is easy given my summer reading. Dev and Niall act like I was 5 minutes late not weeks. Good men. Even Snow is surprising. He watches me like a hawk in all our classes. I can feel his magic leaking in the room but it's not unbearable. Our classmates haven't been twitching or coughing. I wonder if I'm the only one who can feel it. But I can always smell his magic. He hasn't said a word or even blustered to me since I've been in. Every day when I come back from the catacombs to shower and get drunk he either pretends to sleep or pretends to study while covertly watching me and looking away when I look back. On one hand, not fighting is kind of nice, kind of peaceful. But on the other hand the constant attention is kind of unnerving. I would think he's the one plotting but I don't think he has a plan. Especially when drunk me feels giggly and chatty and wants to think of his staring as something more and get giddy over it. Rational, sober me knows he's not looking at me like anything important, he's just watching the enemy.</p>
<p>On the Friday after my return Dev and Niall invite me to their room for a round of drinks. I would never admit it but they have the best bean bag chair to chill in after a few drinks. Dev breaks out a partial bottle of rum and Niall pulls out some teacups lifted from the cafeteria. After the second refill, spent in companionable silence Dev speaks.</p>
<p>"What the fuck is up mate, where ya been?"</p>
<p>"Yeah man, what's up?" Niall chimes in.</p>
<p>I want to wrinkle my nose and scoff at their colloquialisms, but despite what I say calling them my minions, they're my best mates.</p>
<p>"I was fucking kidnapped." I tell them outright. Dev tops up my glass with the last of the bottle.</p>
<p>"That sucks."</p>
<p>"Big yikes." They talk on top of each other.</p>
<p>"Rip."</p>
<p>"What the fuck?" They continue on with no regard for me understanding them. I just shrug, then shake my head a little bit. I slip my wand out of my sleeve.</p>
<p>"Lads, check this out- <em>it's five o'clock somewhere</em>." Our teacups refill with a pale green margarita. They continue their excited chatter.</p>
<p>"Did Fiona show you that?" Dev asks. I nod. Dev and Niall are my mates and I love them but they are too excitable. I get up to go to my room to get some silence and relax.</p>
<p>"Night." They chatter at me, wishing me goodbye. I slowly saunter up the stairs to my room. I feel a little too drunk, but I'm a Pitch, and Pitches hold their liquor. I'm a champ. The queasiness is nothing. I swing the door open just a little too hard and the force reverberates through the wall. Snow's head whips around from where he was working at his desk. I almost giggle at his too big eyes, and his gaping mouth. His mouth is always open just a little bit but now he's properly gaping at me. I run my fingers through my hair, I don't think it's mussed but I'd rather be safe than sorry. I'm so sick of his constant silent staring.</p>
<p>"Snow." He just keeps looking, eyes still widening. I take a few steps into the room, closing the door behind me.</p>
<p>Snow, I- you are," I lurch forward vomiting into the small rubbish bin in between our desks. This is incredulous, me vomiting- and giggling at it. Snow's watching me, probably obsessively and I sink to my knees to bury my head in the bin as the vomit rips out of me. I don't think there's that much liquid in my stomach but it keeps coming out. I wonder if blood from my earlier rats will come up too or if I haven't a second stomach for the blood. Vampire anatomy isn't well documented like regular anatomy. Maybe the blood just gets absorbed when it gets swallowed.  I wish there were more vampire books for me to study. I finally finish puking, at least I hope I do. I summon a glass of water to rinse out my mouth. I love magic, and I especially love doing drunk magic. I love Snow's magic, the rich smokey omnipresent scent of it, even if he can't use it. Snow. I need to talk to him. I lean back to look over at him, look up at him. I crawl the two steps to my bed and climb in. There now I can properly look at him and properly pull a blanket over me. The open window makes the room chilly, and it let's in a cool breeze right onto my bed. My own personal torture, ha, as if existing so close to the sun isn't torture enough. The sun, Snow. I need to talk to him, make sure no cat got his tongue. I haven't heard his beautiful, beautiful voice in months.</p>
<p>"Snow." I do my best to sneer my face and spit it out, like it doesn't taste sinful in my mouth. He's still watching me, with his too-open mouth and blue eyes. It's a long pause going on heartbreaking and he still hasn't said anything. Surely I would've heard if he lost his voice.</p>
<p>"Cat got your tongue?" I inquire, I hope it comes out bitchy not teasing. We're not friends, I can't tease him. We're enemies and I - I. His mouth opens and closes and he blinks too hard and I see him working on chewing up some words.</p>
<p>"No." Then a pregnant pause. "Baz- Baz are you sloshed?" Am I sloshed? What a peculiar term, sloshed, why wouldn't he say wasted or drunk or buzzed or sozzled.</p>
<p>"Am I sloshed? Has the brilliant chosen one finally figured it out? All by himself? Where's Bunce to be your brain tonight?" The cruel words rip out of me but it feels good, it feels right. Burn. The laughter that follows is mine and it should be cruel and cold but it's missing the edge, and it's accompanied by his boisterous laugh, deep and rich. The chosen one thinks that's humorous, the thought and the sound perpetuate my laughter. He slumps down on his folded arm, the bottom of his shirt hitches up just enough to show the tiniest expanse of skin. I shake my wand into my hand and spell the lights out. He sighs too loud and stumbles his way into the bathroom.</p>
<p>"Goodnight, Snow." I whisper into the dark and collapse into sleep.</p>
<p>
  <b>Simon</b>
</p>
<p>I close the bathroom door and breathe a sigh of relief. I was pretty sure Baz was drinking alcohol every night since he got back, but this confirms it. Baz Pitch, perfect at everything stumbled into our room and puked into our wastebasket. I start up the shower just to have something to do. What the fuck? Baz drinking, Baz being drunk on the other side of the door, chuckling and vomiting and laughing and was he actually being a git or could that have been ribbing? I hoped that seventh year would be different. I spent all summer thinking of Baz, despite trying not to, and then the wanker doesn't show up at the start of the term and now that he's here he's getting properly pissed. Tonight and on school nights too. I spent the last week uncertain of myself to try and talk to him and here he is, getting wasted. After getting top marks every year, he's gonna spend his last at the bottom of the bottle? Where even is he getting the alcohol? I could hear the laughter and chatter coming up from his cousin Dev's room tonight, but every other night he's drinking in the very bathroom I'm standing in.</p>
<p>I dry off and set to snooping through the bathroom. I look through the cupboards and find excess hair product and posh soap and even fancy lube, I look through the mirrored cabinet and find band-aids and q-tips and extra toothpaste, nothing shocking. I look behind the toilet, then pull the top of the tank off, and nothing. Nothing suspect in our bathroom. Great snakes! The git must be magicking himself drunk. I brush my teeth and resolve myself to confront him over it tomorrow morning. I didn't bring clean clothes in my haste so I wrap up in the towel and go looking in the darkness for some pajamas. I find my pair of trousers on the foot of my bed and pull them on quickly crawling into bed. I look over at Baz's bed in the darkness. I'm assuming he's asleep already or I would've been subjected to another round of teasing? Or him just being rude? I don't know what he's thinking. I don't know what's going on but as his roommate I have the right to know. And as his enemy I need to know. Maybe he got cursed and just smells like alcohol as a result every night. I toss and turn and grudgingly go to sleep.</p>
<p>I wake up bright and early despite it being Saturday. Baz is still out cold. I pull the curtains extra wide and get dressed and head down to breakfast. I get there before Penny, unsurprisingly and load a plate and wait. After a short while she joins me, a bright smile and a large cup of coffee greeting me.</p>
<p>"You'll never guess what Baz is up to!"</p>
<p>"Simon" She sighs with the fondest eyeroll.</p>
<p>"He's been drinking alcohol, every night, Pen, he's up to something. He's getting my guard down."</p>
<p>"You're being ridiculous, you know there's no alcohol allowed on campus, and Baz loves the rules."</p>
<p>"Baz never follows the rules!  And he smells like alcohol every night and he came into our room last night reeking, then he vomited and was mean then he spelled the lights out and went to bed."</p>
<p>"Maybe it's the flu, Simon, you can't just accuse him of breaking the rules to get sozzled, with no proof. You don't have any proof do you? "</p>
<p>I sigh and rake my hand through my hair, Pen's right, it's my word against his and his is always more reliable. I know I can be a stuttering mess sometimes and he is too eloquent. At least she didn't tell me to shut up about it. If I kept pushing she surely would've. I look back to her and she begins to talk about the essay due Monday. I started it last night but I kept getting distracted on the sound from the lower floors. They have a silencing spell cast on our room because Baz and I reliably yell at each other, but it's only one way and I don't trust myself not to spell the whole building silent. I have to come up with a plan to get proof of Baz drinking. Then what? If I told the Mage what would he do? And the Mage hasn't been on campus since the picnic at the start of term anyway. I finish breakfast and follow Penny to the library.</p>
<p>She works in silence and I sit thinking. After a few hours I come up with a solid plan to catch Baz in the act. I'll bust in on him in the bathroom, bottle in hand. So now I wait. I hate waiting. I have no patience and I know it. I leave Penny to her books and head to the Wood to swing my sword around. I know the nymphs hate me but it's either that or get so worked up I blow something up with my magic. After a while I swing by the cafeteria and grab lunch and go back to the room to finish that stupid history essay. It's not that I hate history, it's just not that important. Why am I supposed to care how many wars England and France fought or what some dead guys were doing hundreds of years ago? And I hate writing essays. My handwriting looks like chicken scratch and Baz makes fun of it. The words don't come to me much better than when I'm talking either.</p>
<p>Baz isn't in sight of our room and that's okay, I need some time to figure out what I'm gonna say. I finish the essay and I don't love it but it's done, and passable so I stick back in the folder.</p>
<p>Dinnertime comes and goes and I see Baz in the dining hall but when I go back to the room, he's not there. I don't trust myself to magic the bathroom door, and I don't want to bust it down, but I got really good at lockpicking a few summers ago. Baz finally comes up into the room, he beelines for the bathroom with a sneer on his face. My smile is practically splitting my whole face in two. I hear him turn on the shower. Now we wait.  Would it be wrong to bust in on him? Should I warn him in case he's going to stay naked after his shower? What if he multitasks and drinks in the shower? There's too many loose ends. This isn't going to work. Then the shower turns off. I wait a minute, maybe too then walk to the door.</p>
<p>"I know what you're doing in there."</p>
<p>"A man can't brush his teeth in peace now, Snow? "</p>
<p>"I'm coming in!"</p>
<p>"Don't you dare"</p>
<p>It's too late, the lock clicks open in my hands and there he is, in pants, still drying his hair. I think for a second I'm wrong, then I see it. A tumbler next to his wand.</p>
<p>"What do you think you're doing? What the fuck is wrong with you? Haven't you ever heard of privacy?"</p>
<p>He's getting agitated, he put the blow dryer down to talk with his hands, but it's hard to focus. His cheeks are almost flushed, and his upper body is so lithe and close and tantalizing, with a few stray droplets clinging to him. Maybe the steam of the bathroom is making me lightheaded. What is he saying?</p>
<p>"Snow, quit staring at me, you absolute buffoon, and get out, I don't bother you in the bathroom."</p>
<p>The words still aren't coming but I reach past him, quick as a whip and grab the cup. I'm almost worried he's going to hit me as I see his hands come to me.</p>
<p>"Anathema"</p>
<p>"Really? That's all you have to say for yourself?" He sneers, but his hands still midair. I take a sip of his cup before he can get it back. No deniability.</p>
<p>"Ah-alcohol, Baz drinking in the bathroom."</p>
<p>"Get out!" He screams, he looks distraught, then I remember he's practically naked, in the middle of his ridiculous skin care routine. He pushes me out, not super hard and I cooperate. He closes the door and locks it between us when I realize I still have his drink.</p>
<p>"Baz! You can't stay in there forever!" I yell. This is great, I've got him caught with liquor, caught in the bathroom, and  I knew he used the fancy French blow dryer that he denied using.</p>
<p>"Watch me! "</p>
<p>"I'll break in again. You have 10 minutes to come out or I'm coming back in! I'll pick the lock!"</p>
<p>I hear his sigh through the door.</p>
<p>"Fine."</p>
<p>I take another sip of the drink. It's alcoholic yes, but there's other stuff, something tangy that makes my face scrunch and something strong that burns my throat and something sweet that's almost cloying. It's not great but it's not bad. I figure the more I drink the better it will taste. That's what Ag said when we snuck a bottle of champagne last Christmas. I settle in at my desk and angle my chair to watch the door. By the time he comes out of the bathroom (way longer than 10 minutes) my cup is empty. He emerges, perfect hair, dressed sharply in his fancy silk pajamas and robe with some kind of fluted glass in his hand. He looks calm and in control but I bet that's just an act. He hesitantly settles at his desk and turns his chair to face me, looking at me expectantly.</p>
<p>"I want another." I tell him. When he closes his eyes and casts a spell I'm only a little surprised. I'm even more surprised by the liter jug that appears on my desk. He opens his eyes and grins when he sees the size of it.</p>
<p>"Do you even know what you're drinking, Snow?" He sneers without venom.</p>
<p>"Alcohol, Baz, you're busted!" I tell him, I'm winning. I'm in charge. He rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>"It's called a margarita, it's got tequila."  He swirls his glass, looking into it, like it's a fancy wine.</p>
<p>"Tell me why you've been drinking. " I demand.</p>
<p>"It's a lovely Saturday. " He replies lightly.</p>
<p>"I meant all week." I just about growl.</p>
<p>
  <b>Baz</b>
</p>
<p>"I assure you, I haven't been. Yesterday was a fluke. The minions got me drunk." I state assuredly. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How has dense Snow figured it out? I have to come out on top. I won't let him get me in trouble. Although frowned upon at school, there's no anti-alcohol provision. I looked it up. I don't really think of Dev and Niall as minions but I called them that once in front of Snow, and he believed me so I keep up the charade. I see him chewing over my answer, working on a rebuttal. I drain my glass, I have a feeling this is going to be a long night.</p>
<p>"Bullshit." He finally spits out.</p>
<p>"Eloquent as ever dear Snow." I keep my calm, but the alcohol makes dropping an affectionate term come natural. Perhaps he'll think it sarcastic. I summon my own replacement drink and am pleasantly surprised to see another liter, they've never come that big before, maybe my mastery has improved. Even better than the size is the color, it's a vibrant red, hopefully strawberry like I've had before. I refill my glass and relish in the strawberry masked marg. I look over to Snow again and see he's been blustering for a time, trying to formulate an answer. I cut him off.</p>
<p>"I like to drink alcohol, and I learned a new spell, and it's five o'clock somewhere, if you want to be companionable, then we can drink companionably. " Companionably has too many syllables and it almost comes out butchered, not like Snow would notice. He nods brilliantly, his curls dancing in the movement.</p>
<p>"Good." I indulge. I don't mind humoring Snow, perhaps this is the turning point to make us friendly towards one another. I love him, and I have always thought it would kill me, but I suppose it might be nice to live, and be amicable.</p>
<p>"Where were you? " He interrupts my thoughts. I suppose he means for the beginning of term. I'm surprised he hasn't asked before.</p>
<p>"London." Just because we're sociable now doesn't mean I have to spill all my secrets.</p>
<p>"Bullshit." He spits out, rapid-fire. He has that determined glint in those alluring blue eyes of his, the one he gets before slaying a beast or going a deluded rant to his sidekick, not that I watch him that closely. I may as well give in, I'd give him anything, a lifetime supply of margs if that's what it'll take. With a sigh I begin to tell my story. Best to get it out with.</p>
<p>"I was abducted by numpties and held hostage for the start of term, no we don't know why, yes it was awful." I'm ready to wash my hands of it, that's enough talk for a lifetime.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry, that sounds terrible." He sympathizes. That's not at all how I expected to respond. Feeling like Snow, I nod back at him.</p>
<p>"I thought you were plotting something, I didn't think anything could even touch you." He keeps on. I wonder how low his tolerance is.</p>
<p>The window is still open, perpetually open, and I'm cold, even in my robe, so I grab my drink and refill and sit on my bed, wrapping myself in blankets. Snow watches me move, and I can see the question on his face. I flash him a signature, dazzling smile. Maybe I can seduce him with my good looks and personable nature. Ha. I suppose he reads the subtext and hesitantly on newborn deer legs he crosses the room, and hesitates just a bit before sitting next to me, shoulder almost touching. I see his jug is empty, and his cup is almost. We love a big drinker. I drain my cup and refill ours out of my strawberry margarita pitcher.</p>
<p>I never thought Snow and I could be civil, let alone be drinking buddies. But he's sitting right here, on my bed sharing my margaritas.</p>
<p>"D'you ever think about how everything could turn out?" Snow slurs.</p>
<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
<p>"Just, the war and the humdrum and the future and everything. Yanno?"</p>
<p> Do I know? Of course I think about the future and the war, Snow's golden destiny is to kill me and the humdrum for his precious Mage. I think about it nearly all the time.</p>
<p>"Yeah." My pitiful answer satiates him. He nods sagely. Perhaps he's thinking it over. I can almost see the cogs turning. I'm thinking about how his bronze curls bounce with each nod and other ways I could get them to bounce. I shake my head, to try and clear my head of these ridiculous thoughts.</p>
<p>"I just hate it." He starts, turning to look me in the face, just this side of uncomfortably close, the back of his hand just brushing against my outer thigh. I hum my encouragement.</p>
<p>"I know the Mage isn't always right, I want to be more than the Mage's heir, more than the prophecies." He takes a deep breath and continues. His shoulder is pressing into mine, I can feel every breath of his hitting my cheek. He's so close I can smell the margaritas he's had.</p>
<p>"I get it. I don't have the Mage breathing down my neck, but the Families have all these expectations for me. I know they want me to do all these things, but no one asked me what I want."</p>
<p>"Exactly." Normally Snow would never interrupt me, normally I'd snip at him, something cruel and clever. His whole face lit up with my camaraderie, the knowledge that someone understands him and I can't find it in myself to snipe him. I set my empty cup down on the floor.</p>
<p>
  <b>Simon</b>
</p>
<p>My alarm clock blasts jolting me awake. I open my eyes and watch it light up from across the room. I try to bolt out of bed, but around my middle a pale arm holds me in. Baz is holding me like his life depends on it. I move his arm and pull my leg from his and bolt to turn off the alarm before he wakes up. I smack the top of it, knocking it off the nightstand. I hurry to get dressed and get out of the room before Baz can wake up and pitch a fit. He spooned me for potential hours all night long. That is weird. We aren't friends. We're not civil. Just because he got me pissed last night doesn't mean anything. We're enemies, who shared a pint. Although, it's been a while since I've been able to sleep the whole night through. That was probably the alcohol, that's why Baz does it. I think. The bed sharing was coincidental. Although it might be nice to wake up like that more often. I'm definitely attracted to Baz, it wouldn't be that hard to imagine waking up in his arms, gently awoke with sweet kisses or back rubs or other things equally nice. What the fuck? We're enemies. He's going to kill me or die trying. We have to. I wonder if this counts as gay. Does wanting to be sweet with Baz mean I like blokes?</p>
<p>When I get to breakfast, I'm so upset and confused and mad I can't even look at Penny.</p>
<p>"You smell like a brewery, and look like something the cat dragged in."</p>
<p>"Thanks, Pen." I spit out. Being sarcastic makes me think of Baz and I don't even know how to feel about it anymore. Penny's magic hits me like a sledgehammer, but my headache goes away. The aroma of sage envelops me.</p>
<p>"That should get you through the day." Penny sighs. I know she wants all the details, but even with the spell, I still feel a little bit like garbage.</p>
<p>When Baz saunters in for breakfast, I can't even look at him. I feel his eyes on me all through breakfast.</p>
<p>
  <b>Baz</b>
</p>
<p>I'm awake before Simon's obnoxious alarm goes off. I don't remember letting him sleep in my bed last night but waking up with him in my arms is absolutely incredible. The second his alarm wakes him up he bolts out of bed and out of the room. I didn't realize how repulsive I must be to elicit such a reaction. I roll over into the warmth of where he used to be. Pitches don't cry. Pitches don't cry over dumb boys. Pitches don't have feelings. Pitches don't have feelings. That's what I am. A Pitch first, then Baz, then a vampire, then a gay vampire.</p>
<p>I get up to shower, to get on with my life, like nothing happened. I get ready for the day. When I go down to breakfast, I feel Snow's eyes following me, and I can smell his pervasive magic. His stare down is preferable to him getting up and punching me, which I half expected. Poor, straight Snow having to share a bed with me. Breakfast gave him just enough time to get mad and remember we're enemies.</p>
<p>Classes drag on unbearably slow. Snow watches me every moment, in our shared classes, at lunch, in the hallway, at tea and at practice. Every moment except for the ones where I try to catch his eye. Not that I want to catch his eye, but he makes a point to pretend he's not staring at me. Snow has never been subtle, not one day in his life, and it's more apparent than ever. It's no wonder his grades are horrendous since he spends his time staring at me.</p>
<p>I trudge up the stairs and beeline it to the bathroom. After practice I am unreasonably sweaty, and whatever confrontation Snow is building up to can hopefully be avoided. I take my time going through my shower and skincare routine. I spell myself a margarita as I get dressed. Can I hide in the bathroom for the rest of my life? I've just decided to never leave the bathroom when I hear Snow throwing things around our room. I know I have to stop him before he destroys my things.</p>
<p>A sigh escapes as I open the door, drink in hand. Simon is in the middle of something. A mental breakdown perhaps? A temper tantrum? His hair is standing up in angles. He's red in the face, and sweaty. I see his Magickal Theory textbook open on the floor near the bathroom and a notebook in his hand ready to be chunked. He looks at me, mouth agape, eyes wide. Like a child who just got caught with his hand in the candy jar.</p>
<p>"Baz."</p>
<p>"Temper tantrum, Snow?"</p>
<p>"Fuck off."</p>
<p>"How eloquent!" I look into my glass and sit down at my desk. Snow continues to sigh and stutter, before eventually storming out. Even though I was choosing to ignore his bluster, doesn't mean I wanted him to leave. Normally he ends his fights with 'fuck off', but I hadn't really goaded him, and I wanted more of his attention. How inconsiderate of him to storm off while I'm trying to argue? I get started on my Latin homework and hope he'll be back soon.</p>
<p>It's hours later, and I'm in bed, desperately wishing for sleep when Snow slinks in. I hear him shower and go to bed.</p>
<p>He spends the next day actively avoiding me. That is until after I finish my shower and find him sitting at his desk, watching the bathroom door.</p>
<p>
  <b>Simon</b>
</p>
<p>Fuck. I'm so mad. Mad at Baz for getting me drunk and holding me. Mad at the Mage for making me a political player. Mad at Agatha because she tried to get back with me today. Mad at Baz for looking especially stunning at football practice. Mad at myself, mostly. I'm mad because I should want to be with Agatha. She's my happily ever after. But I can't bring myself to, especially not after Baz held me. I'm mad because I think I liked waking up with him more than I should. I'm mad because I think I love him, just a little. And he doesn't like me. He wouldn't catch my eye today, and he is hanging out in the bathroom, way longer than normal. (Which is pretty long.) I'm mad because I don't understand the stupid reading for a class I'm already struggling in. The textbook flies across the room before I realize it. The notebook goes with it a moment later. Baz emerges out of the bathroom looking pissed. Pissed because he hates me. I go to talk to him, but he is being a complete git, so I storm out before I do something I'd regret. Maybe punch him in that stupid pretentious face. Maybe kiss him. Maybe throw myself out of the window.</p>
<p>I avoid him the next day. Just so he can't be mean. Just so I don't tell him my feelings. I spend all day trying not to think about it, and failing. I keep thinking how much this sucks. What do you do when you maybe love someone who you have no chance with?</p>
<p>When I come in from dinner, Baz is showering. I think I'll have him get me drunk again, and then I won't think about my stupid gay crush- it feels like it's getting out of hand. Baz walks into the room, drink in hand and almost looks surprised to see me. Almost. This is Baz we're talking about. He hesitates in the doorway for a scant breath, and his eyes widen a fraction before he schools his face into his signature indifference. I see how his eyes dart between his bed and his desk before he sits at his desk, watching me hesitantly.</p>
<p>"I want a drink. " I demand. Fuck. My palms feel sweaty. Fuck.</p>
<p>"Crowley, Snow, I'd hate to be a bad influence." He sneers cooly, but he still grabs his wand to cast It's five o'clock somewhere. Small victories.</p>
<p>"What will your precious Mage think of the Pitch Heir getting his Golden Boy knackered? " I hate when Baz is being mean. The worst part is that I don't think he means it. I think he's just being a prat so I don't suspect his plot. His plot to get me knackered and-and do something villainous. I take a big gulp of my drink so I don't have to respond.</p>
<p>
  <b>Baz</b>
</p>
<p>Simon is acting strange. Well more strange than usual. Yesterday he pitched a fit, then avoided me all day today, and now he's drinking my margarita, like his life depends on it.  His foot is tapping a nervous beat on the floor. I normally wouldn't think Snow capable of complex thought, but two nights ago, he expressed a thought.</p>
<p>"Snow, I hope you're not just befriending me because of my impeccable bartending skills." Maybe I'm goading him now. But his face scrunched up adorably after my last dig. And it's easier to pick on him, than to sit in awkward silence, or Crowley forbid to talk about something pleasant without revealing my hand. He just buries his face in his arms, his hand tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck.</p>
<p>"Oh, cat got your tongue?"</p>
<p>"At least I'm not the one with the drinking problem!" He pushes back from his desk and yells. Oh.</p>
<p>He slams his drink back and stands up.</p>
<p>"At least I didn't disappear for half the term! At least I'm not some self absorbed prat!"  He's so expressive, so alive. So bright and brilliant, it almost hurts.</p>
<p>"At least I'm not a self righteous jerk! At least I can sleep with myself and my actions!"</p>
<p>And it does hurt, watching him get mad, mad at me and yelling, screaming about things he has no idea about. It hurts a lot. But Pitches don't get sad, we get angry. I'm scathing, hissing out my words with cool anger.</p>
<p>"Snow- You are out of your depth. You have no idea what happened to me. Not everyone gets to have a golden life with prophesied destinies. Some of us turn into horrible creatures who can't save those important to us, and some of us don't ev-"</p>
<p>Simon Snow is kissing me. I'm still mad, I was talking and he cut me off, but I'm over the moon. I truly anticipated our kiss to be right before he slayed me with his sword. A beat later and he's pulled back, looking aghast. I stand up and yank on his tie pulling him back to me. He's not getting away that easy. I hear my chair tip over in my haste and I don't care.</p>
<p>Simon Snow is an excellent kisser, he's doing this thing with his mouth and jaw and it's heaven. He pulls away, much too soon. His eyes shining, and mouth wet, and open, but in an endearing way.</p>
<p>"Baz, I have feelings for you." He blurts out.</p>
<p>"Good." I punctuate my response by pulling his mouth back to mine. I will die kissing Simon Snow, one day, preferably years from now.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>